Musings of an Affair
by DracoDew17
Summary: It's time for the Ministry's annual Christmas Ball and two people in attendance are engaged in an affair, which they reflect upon.


A/N: Something else from me. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Nope, no Harry Potter for me.

**Musings of an Affair**

I think she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

And I'm not just saying that because she occupies my bed most days of the week.

She truly is magnificent, from the top of her bushy head to the tips of her dainty toes. Every inch of her is a study of perfection I have mapped to my memory.

Of course, her hair is not bushy tonight. This is an official function of the Ministry, the annual Christmas Ball, and we are expected to attend as employees, she being the head of the department for the treatment of magical creatures and I being the head of the department of international relations.

I watch her walk in on the arm of her husband. A Mr. Ronald Weasley who I hate above all others. Because he is tied to her with vows, something I don't have though I dearly wish I did. He has her as a wife, as a partner, but he doesn't appreciate her the way I do. Playing Quidditch is far more important to him and when he travels with his team, he's sometimes gone for months at a time.

Months which she spends at the manor with me.

She is resplendent in scarlet, all painted eyes and candy lips, and I want to drink her in like fine wine. A living Venus amongst her mortal subjects, we can only stand in awe of the inner light she puts off, like a flame drawing in her moths.

I know I was enticed. Close enough to touch, but never to keep.

I wonder what her friends would say, how they would react, to know she comes to my bed to find her pleasures. That I know every spot on her body to make her moan and whimper and cry out my name like I'm the only thing on earth that matters.

And when she clings to me in the afterglow, I can pretend it's true.

I've tried, Merlin how I've tried, to find other women to take her place, but there can be no other because there is only one _her_.

And she can be the only one for me.

Too bad someone else claimed her first.

I sometimes wonder about the future. After she's gone and the bedside has gone cold, I think about the years to come, things yet to be done, and all the possibilities. Will she eventually end it? Will she and Weasley try to have children?

And sometimes I'm so jealous I half expect my face to turn green.

It's been over two years since we first started this thing between us, and even though I absolutely hate to share anything, I've never forced her to choose. I'm too terrified of losing what I do have and putting her in that position will most likely guarantee it.

Two years. Has it really been that long?

I remember the beginning. We were both working late the week after Halloween. A chance meeting in the lift and we decided to have drinks to catch up. We ended up staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron.

She was horrified, at first, by what she had done, and she left without a word spoken. She avoided me for nearly a month afterward, but then, she appeared in my office unexpectedly. I could tell she wasn't happy, that she was overworked and far less appreciated by her husband and friends than she should be.

I was also hesitant at first. I don't exactly make it a habit to start sleeping with married women, but I figured I could indulge her for awhile until I had her out of my system. Problem is, she kept clawing her way in further, and now she's so deeply embedded that I'll never be free.

Not that I want to be, but it would make things much simpler.

Sometimes I hate her, _truly_ hate her, not the childish rivalry we had at school. For putting me in this position, for having no other options, for ruining me for other women, but most of all, for making me love her.

She is like coffee. Bitter and soothing all in the same swallow, but mostly, giving me warmth deep down in my being. Something I would miss even if I'd never found her to begin with. Maybe I would be better off, but maybe I wouldn't. No one can ever really say for sure. Just like, I don't know what might have happened if she hadn't married Weasley.

So many 'what ifs' encompass our entire relationship that I've lost count.

She joins Potter in a waltz on the dance floor. He looks like an elephant compared to her graceful figure, and he seems rather nervous when the music changes to a tango. Luckily, his wife, the littlest Weasley, comes to rescue him and they wander off to the refreshment table.

She catches my eye and then turns away, her cheeks noticeably flushed, and not from her exertion on the dance floor. I love that I can induce something so simple in her. It helps me believe there may be a future for us after all.

One day, I'll ask her to make the choice. I'll build up the courage to tell her how I feel, make it so she realizes no one would be able to love and appreciate her the way I do. Maybe I'll ask her to run away with me, to find our own happily ever after. Maybe she'll even say yes.

Maybe.

----

I can feel his eyes on me as soon as I walk into the room.

I never figured I'd be the sort of person who would not uphold their marriage vows, that would willingly commit adultery continuously.

But maybe I wouldn't be this person if I had done things differently.

Those kinds of thoughts plague me constantly. Why I always go to him, why I keep going, and why can he give me something, make me feel something, that my husband cannot. It is an ongoing battle between us, of giving and taking, and we never give in, never give up. Because if we did, we wouldn't have what we have now, this indefinable thing between us which is so much more than just an affair but can't quite be called a commitment.

If there hadn't been him, would I have ever cheated on Ron? Probably not.

I know that he loves me. I can see it in his eyes when I arrive to climb into his bed and I can see it when I leave him to return home. The gaze is hungry. Hungry for my touch, hungry for my affection, hungry to keep me.

He thinks I am not already his, but I am.

I am his every time his eyes are on me and even when they're not. I am his when he kisses me with such tenderness that I want to weep because he views me as precious. Mostly, I am his because he sees me, past the conformity and obligations I have created for myself. A gilded cage I didn't even see until I was locked inside.

I thought I was ready. To be a wife and settle down and find my happily ever after. I thought Ron would be the one to give it to me. But things became clear all too soon that Ron and I had very different priorities.

He wanted kids straight off, I did not. He thought I should stay home and be a good Quidditch wife, I would not.

Maybe that's why he spends so much time traveling with his team. Because I cannot be the wife he wanted. So many differences of opinion which should have been discussed before the vows took place, but we were young and believed in forever. We wouldn't let anyone tell us otherwise.

I'm not saying I don't love my husband because I do. My love for Ron is safe and comfortable, not the wild, passionate feelings he incites in me when I'm in his bed.

Perhaps that's why I'm caught in this trap. I did what everyone expected me to do, and now I'm paying the price for it. This relationship I have with him is the one selfish thing I've done in my entire life. I go to him for my sake, simply because I want to, I need to.

Do I love him? Yes and no.

Yes, because he makes me feel like no one else ever has, things I had only previously read about. No, because he has ruined my marriage, anything between Ron and I can never be like it once was. Our former glory can never be salvaged.

But then I look into his eyes and I forget all else. He has opium eyes, fathomless and addictive, making you want to drown in their depths so you can be lost in him forever, awash in a thunderstorm at sea. Sometimes when I gaze into his eyes I feel like I'm falling, dropping so fast that I'm flying.

Even now, from across a crowded room, his eyes like pinpoints on my back, I feel myself drifting, my body calling out for his, wanting to feel his touch once more.

One day, I'll find the strength to stand up to my friends, to not bend to everyone else's demands. Maybe I'll finally leave Ron so we can both be happier. Maybe I'll go to him and say the words he's desperate to hear.

Maybe.

**The End**

A/N: Well, I hope you liked it. Please leave me a review if you would. :)


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